Total pages in book: 134
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 129676 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 648(@200wpm)___ 519(@250wpm)___ 432(@300wpm)
“Apricity.” I tried to sound calm. “You’re bleeding.”
“I am?” She reached to the back of her head. Her fingers shook when she brought them in front of her face and noticed how bloodied they were. Her mouth dropped open.
“I’m taking you to the hospital.” I made an illegal sharp turn south and floored it all the way there.
“…typically takes a few days to come out of a coma, right?” Rhyland’s familiar baritone seeped into my ears.
“Not if you’re married to the Antichrist and the only thing that waits for you on the other side is his sorry ass and another half-baked apology,” Row’s voice groused.
Slowly, I came to, my mind numb, my body feeling rusty. My skin was pebbled from the manufactured air-con chill. My veins felt poked and hooked to tubes.
Hospital. I was in the hospital. But why?
Because of my head injury, of course. Tiernan Callaghan never saw to it that I was treated. I only spent a few hours with the Irish wanker, but he made each minute agonizing.
But…I survived.
Tate did what he had to do, like I knew he would.
I was here. I was safe. It was over. Truly over this time.
“Now’s not the time to taunt Tate,” Cal scolded the men in the room.
How many people were here? I finally understood my mother’s spirit bitching through the medium about allowing complete strangers to see her in a hospital gown.
“No such thing as a bad time to taunt Tate.” Rhyland clucked his tongue. “It’s a universally enjoyable pleasure, second only to nutting in your wife’s rect—”
“You really shouldn’t finish that sentence if you plan on giving your daughter a sibling,” Row’s voice warned, the sound of a shoulder being slapped filling the air. “That wife of yours is my sister.”
“I think her eyelids moved,” Tate croaked.
“Only her eyelids?” Rhyland snorted. “Dude, when I get entrance privileges, her entire body is—”
“I’m talking about Gia, you waste of environmental resources,” Tate barked.
At this point, I was fully awake and fighting a smile. I’d been through hell and back in the past few weeks, but I couldn’t deny the joy I derived from knowing I was surrounded by people who loved me.
And that included my cruel and domineering husband.
“She’s waking up. Everybody, get the fuck out,” Tate ordered, his chair scraping the floor. “I want to be the first face she sees when she opens her eyes.”
“Hasn’t the poor woman been through enough?” Dylan murmured.
I swallowed down a giggle.
“I’m staying here. I’m filling out my renewal forms for the student organization membership. This is the one spot in the hospital that’s not horrible for Wi-Fi.”
My eyelids seemed heavy, a crust of sleep gluing them together, but I couldn’t resist granting Tate his wish and waited until I heard the door closing behind our friends.
“Apricity.” Tate’s hand scooped mine, warm and large against my cold, dry one. The mattress dipped as he shifted onto my hospital bed. He brought the back of my hand to his mouth, his lips brushing my skin. “Gia. Sweetheart. Wake up. Even in Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, she wakes up from her dream. She came back,” he croaked brokenly. “My love. Please come back to me. I’ll be better. No, that’s not good enough. I’ll be perfect. I’ll dedicate my life to worshipping you. You will have anything your heart desires. More airplanes. And islands. And…and…union perks!” he offered breathlessly. “Let’s take everyone on a vacation. My treat. You pick the location. I’ll be nice to company employees. I’ll even…do those team-building activities you tried to rope me into in the past. Just wake up. Please. I need you.”
Tears pulled behind my eyelids, moistening the crust keeping them closed.
“Dylan,” I croaked, my eyes snapping open. “Are you still here?”
Tate’s lips parted against my hand.
“Yes.” I could hear amusement in her voice as well as her fingers punching her laptop’s keyboard.
“Did you hear Mr. Blackthorn’s promises?”
“Loud and clear.”
“About the union perks?”
“Yup,” Dylan said, popping the p. “Started filming the entire thing when it was obvious he was gonna bawl.”
“And about the company’s vacation?” I singsonged.
“Heard that too,” Dylan confirmed.
“Oh, lovey.” I placed my hand on Tate’s cheek, even though my head pounded angrily, and I was freezing despite being bundled in several blankets.
He leaned into my touch instinctively.
“I contemplated dying, but the need to give you shit for all you’ve put me through won out in the end.” My voice was so brittle, so thin, it reminded me of a crème brûlée, ready to crack under the slightest pressure.
My husband was a wreck, his dark hair unkempt and curling around his ears and forehead chaotically. He was pale, his cheeks sunken, with dark circles around his eyes. His lips were chapped, and he was wearing the same suit he’d brought me to the hospital in. I blinked, taking him all in.